A Song to Carry Through the Night
by hinahinaxxchoco
Summary: Unlike her, he didn't care much for allegories.
1. Lying in Wait

_So this is the end of the story,_  
 _Everything we had, everything we did,_  
 _Is buried in dust,_  
 _And this dust is all that's left of us._

For the heroes, the present remains a mere illusion. They all carried with them the heavy, unforgiving knowledge that their existence relied solely on the past. It trailed some relentlessly, sliced open freshly patched wounds, never allowed them to taste anything but blood and shame. It followed others with quiet murmurs, whispered golden promises in their ears, dug its nails into their veins, reminded them of all they had lost.

...o...

It had been some time since the last battle. Saber was waiting for something to occur—a signal from her master, a thundering cry from the skies, a familiar predatory smirk from a certain crimson-eyed figure—anything, anything at all. She had grown impatient of wasting the days away, had tried learning to wait in darkness, and found she was unfit for the stillness of night.

Truth be told, there was never a clear distinction of the days and nights; for her, and surely for the other heroes, the two fused together in a cacophony of the sounds and sights of a borrowed world. The constructed time reminded her that her existence was false and she found that she hated it beyond reason.

She decided she was never good at waiting.

Even when she was a king, she preferred to take action instead of mulling over the minute details of a scheme. Perhaps that was why her most infamous war became her last.

Saber sighed, a short huff that only added to the tense atmosphere around her.

"What exactly is it that Kiritsugu wants us to do?"

She wasn't talking to any particular person of the two that stood before her. They had all been ordered by Kiritsugu to return to the castle and were standing around in a room large enough to house hundreds of guests. Yet, like most of the places Kiritsugu claimed to reside, the room, and the castle, remained eerily flawless, with not a single piece of furniture out of place. There was no sign that any human had ever stepped foot inside, much less lived there.

Though Saber hadn't directed the question toward either of them, it was Irisviel who decided to answer her.

"He hasn't exactly been the most transparent with me, either," she sighed. "I'm not sure I can tell you more than what he went over with you after that night with Rider."

Saber thought it strange that Irisviel was left out of the conversation, but said nothing and instead nodded, deciding not to trouble her more than was necessary. After all, with the way she protected Saber during her battle against Lancer, she proved herself to be Saber's only real ally.

"What has he told you, Maiya?" Saber looked over at the raven haired spy, who was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

"I was instructed to come here, as have you."

She said nothing more of the matter and opted instead to open her artillery case and reconfigure her weapons.

Saber narrowed her eyes at Maiya's irritatingly succinct answer.

 _So the waiting game has commenced_ , she grimaced to herself.

 _Just perfect._

...o...

It had been some time since he was able to enjoy himself in battle. Gilgamesh was waiting for Tokiomi—he refused to call him his master—to stop talking, gauge his own eyes and tongue out with a knife, fall to the ground, and die in a pool of his own blood.

He found Tokiomi's voice especially grating on his ears, and had long deemed his words unfit to enter the realms of a powerful king's thoughts. And yet, here he was, yammering on about "we must take down Kiritsugu before it becomes too late" and "my lord, your excellency, may I trouble you to use your exquisite power and vanquish the enemy you see before us?".

 _No_ , Gilgamesh thought. _No, you may not, you fucking weasel_.

He spent the next few moments silently cursing the artificial body he was inhabiting, angered by the fact that he was here through the mercy of a power other than his own. He, a god, was forced to stand among the worst of all those living on earth: humans, the most disgusting creatures. They would destroy, sacrifice, plunder, rape—all under the false pretense that they were achieving the large abstraction of an ideal, like glory, redemption, or worst of all, justice. Their words, like Tokiomi's, were empty shells, housing nothing but hypocrisy and fraud.

Gilgamesh decided he was better off giving into pleasure without trying to justify it; there was a sense of sincerity with which he approached his hedonistic lifestyle, as he was quite upfront with what he desired and found no reason to hide it.

There was one thing, however, that he didn't find to be terribly awful about his current situation. He thought back to when he first encountered that golden haired force of nature. She certainly piqued his interest, with her self-deprecating sense of righteousness and detrimentally naive spirit.

What was her name again?

Something about a blade?

"My lord—" Ah, there was that annoying buzzing noise again.

Gilgamesh shifted his gaze once again to the man kneeling before him, his gloved hands propped up on his knees.

 _Those gloves must be hiding some deeply stained red hands_ , Gilgamesh thought amusedly.

"I implore you to use your powers to seek out Saber, Kiritsugu's servant, and deliver her the kind of punishment you see fit. From here on out, the plan calls for her complete elimination, and I am humbled before you with my limited abilities. Please, do help my meager existence and destroy her."

 _That's right,_ he thought.

 _Saber._

The sound of her name sliced through the air, cutting away the unpleasant toxin that had been left by Tokiomi's unbelievably dense words. So, he wanted him to find Saber. "Very well," he replied with a wave of his hand. "Consider it done."

He turned away, stepping into the night.

As he disappeared from Tokiomi's sight, he toyed with the idea of meeting her again, of tearing apart her seemingly unwavering spirit, and piecing it back together. A grin spread across Gilgamesh's face; his eyes gleamed with anticipation.

Perhaps he would be able to find his queen yet.

* * *

a/n: Hello again! I'm writing this in hopes of escaping the unbearable heat while simultaneously, and ironically, rekindling the flames of my love for Saber & Gilgamesh. Damn, they're cute. Anyway, look forward to a few more chapters of these knuckleheads and their shenanigans. This will definitely be on the shorter side of the usual multiple chaptered stories. As always, any feedback is much appreciated!

ps: Lyrics are from Eyes Wide Open, by Gotye.


	2. Nursery Rhymes & Other Bedtime Lies

_On a gathering storm comes_  
 _a tall handsome man_  
 _in a dusty black coat with_  
 _a red right hand_

Sometime in the forty-eight hours since she, Irisviel, and Maiya began staying at the castle, Saber had decided, quietly, solemnly, that she was going to put her foot through the wall of the fifth floor and walk straight off the balcony.

Two thousand eight hundred and eighty minutes had passed, and still no word from Kiritsugu. If this was his idea of punishing her after the events that transpired during her battle with Lancer, and by association, his cowardly master, then he was doing a fantastic job.

More often than not, she found herself at odds with her master; there was something about his utter lack of faith and unyielding moral maxim, clashing with his grandiose idealizations about the world, that bothered her to no end. But because of her disciplined nature, possibly the result of a long life of knighthood, she always held her tongue and hoped. Hoped that perhaps she was just not yet adjusted to the ways in which people of his time philosophized about the world. Hoped that in due time, she would come to understand him. Hoped, hoped, hoped. Like a damn fool.

But this time, her patience ran thin and, standing in the middle of the room awaiting her master's instructions like a dog, she found she could no longer be hopeful.

She was about to open her mouth to speak when suddenly she felt a pounding pain in her chest, a staccato beat not unlike the ominous ticking of a clock, counting down the moments before an enemy servant approached.

Clocks and time.

It was always time, stopping her in her tracks, taking away all that she held dear. Saber thought back to that familiar rhyme about clocks―one that she encountered in the many borrowed lives she lived, centuries after her death.

How did it go again?

She heard the faint sound of footsteps dancing across the roof of the castle and in the dark outskirts of her mind, she allowed herself to wish―just barely so―that those footsteps belonged to him. Why she was so intrigued by his presence seemed unfathomnable; she never found allure in the glamour and richness of his decadant lifestyle, never so much as hoped that she would live lavishly when she knew her people were starving. She almost resented him for it, for his choice to fulfill his own pleasure before ensuring the lives of others. She hated that he was able to indulge so carelessly.

And yet.

And yet she was drawn to him, like a child to the soft voice of his mother, weaving together nursery rhymes, enchanted.

 _Hickory dickory dock._

Ignoring the thudding pain that threatened to take her down on one knee, Saber grimaced and in a sharp tone, ordered Irisviel and Maiya:

"Stay here! If it is who I suspect it to be, you must then leave the castle and find Kiritsugu. You and Maiya stand no chance against him."

Irisviel seemed to wince, and draw back slightly. At this, Saber felt unsettled, and added softly, "Please, do not think to follow me. I have sworn to protect you, and I will do all that I can to honor that."

"Wait, Saber―" Irisviel started to object, her eyes stormy and fearful.

But before she could continue, Saber had already dashed across the room and out the door. She found the balcony, and true to the promises she had made to herself just moments ago, walked to the edge of its pearl white surface, turned towards the outside walls of the castle, and leapt―

 _The mouse ran up the clock._

Her heavily armored body threatened her against gravity as she ran along the sides of the castle, eyes frantically searching for any hint of gold―gold armor, gold swords, golden hair. Anything that indicated he was here, so that she could cut him down, and fulfill her duty as any servant would.

Ah, there it was again. The overwhelming sense of duty or whatever she liked to call it to reassure herself with. It followed her through the days, tugged at her throat during the nights, threatened to cut her open and pour out all that was left inside of her. Under its weight, she could feel the ground come up, as if hell itself were welcoming her with open arms, and swallow her whole.

 _No,_ she insisted. _It is an honor, a privilege, not a chore. I must protect, must serve Irisviel, must do what is right for the world, I must, I have to, there is no other way, no―_

 _The clock struck one._

 _And what of yourself?_ Some dark corner of her mind whispered ominously, threatening to unravel the very foundation of all she had worked to achieve, all she had lived her life convincing herself of.  
 _What about what is right for you?_

 _How would you know?_ She countered. _You weren't even fit to be a king; you failed your people. How would you know how to live a just life if you aren't able to make life just for others?_

Just as she was able to silence the voice that had started its work picking apart at the gaps in her identity, she was thrown back by a strong wind, knocking her from her uphill ascent.

 _The mouse ran down._

Landing rather roughly on her feet, she accessed her damage from the courtyard of the castle, and seeing as she didn't take any real impact, turned her attention to finding the servant responsible for her fall.

"Saber!"

At the sound of his rough voice, she turned around, faced the castle, and narrowed her eyes. Perched fifty feet above her, arms crossed, eyes wide with anticipation, and grinning so generously he could be mistaken for a circus clown, the king of conquerors stood gallantly, looking every bit the king he claimed himself to be.

Saber closed her eyes briefly and sighed, feeling like she shouldn't have bothered getting up that morning.

When she opened her eyes again and spoke, her voice was laced with exasperation.

"What brings you here, Rider?"

 _Hickory dickory dock._

* * *

a/n: Yeah, I get it. I'm shit for torturing Saber like this. Her valiant soul doesn't deserve the shit I put her through.

Oh well. onward & upward!

ps: Lyrics are from Red Right Hand, by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. Bonus points if you know what show is currently using it for their theme song.


End file.
